


Take a Turn

by plumtrees



Series: Four's a Party [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4198665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Wanna bet on how any times we can make you come?”</p>
  <p>“I’m betting six,” Matsukawa says, and Hanamaki’s mouth goes dry.</p>
  <p>“Not even in the double-digits? Have a little faith, Mattsun.”</p>
  <p>“I have yet to come <em>once</em>,” Hanamaki rasps, bringing the attention back on him, “so unless you guys are all talk, then I suggest we fucking <em>get on with it</em>.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Turn

**Author's Note:**

> because when I write PWP for the first time I don't do baby steps like idk maybe slow and romantic and vanilla involving two people, but a full-on gangbang with FOUR people and a truckload of kinks.
> 
> And I fear it's only gonna get worse from here.

The cuffs are simple: dark leather with a softer fabric lining the inside and linked together with two interlocking D-rings. A trigger snap hook connects the cuffs to a chain that’s looped around a metal grill on the headboard, all twelve inches of it keeping him in place.

He tests the restraints and the lack of give reassures and scares him at the same time. He tries not to let the latter emotion show too much, but Oikawa’s already on him, as naked as he is, curling a finger under his chin and tipping his head up, leading him into a soft kiss that Hanamaki thinks is meant to calm him down but only sends his pulse racing even faster.

“Remember our safeword, Makki?”

He nods. _Red_. Nothing he would think to say in the heat of the moment, definitely. At first it had been _volleyball_ —no points for guessing who suggested that one—but Iwaizumi pointed out that it had to be something easy, in case he got too overwhelmed.

Oikawa pulls away and looks him in the eye, gaze steady, but with their proximity, Hanamaki sees the lust smoldering in those brown depths.

“We’re not going to stop for _no_ or _stop_ or _don’t_. We will only stop when you say the safeword. Is that clear, Makki?”

“I think you missed the part when I specifically asked for this,” Hanamaki snaps, impatient. He appreciates the fact that these guys care so much, he really does, but he’s been waiting for this moment since all three of them agreed to it, and he’d really rather speed things up now, please.

Oikawa smirks. Hanamaki nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels his fingers ghosting around his entrance, hovering just above the point where he is stretched open with a plug.

“Good,” Oikawa purrs and the drag of the syllable coincides with the slow slide of the toy as it’s pulled out of him. The action sends shivers running through his whole body and he reflexively pulls at the restraints.

“Oi, Shittykawa, stop monopolizing him,” Iwaizumi comments from his right. His and Oikawa’s heads automatically turn to his direction. He lets out an indignant yelp when the toy is harshly pushed back inside him.

“You have everything?” Oikawa asks casually, lifting himself up and off of Hanamaki, completely unself-conscious about his state of undress. From what he can see, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa are still fully-clothed, but he really hopes it wouldn’t stay that way too long. He can hear Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa talking and he writhes, frustrated, clanking the chains with every small movement.

Suddenly, the bed shifts and dips every which way, all three of them silently negotiating which part of him to take. Matsukawa and Iwaizumi sit on either side of him and Oikawa kneels between his spread legs. Hanamaki tries not to flush at the sight of them, naked and cocks hard, predatory glints in their eyes that send chills down his spine.

Matsukawa dives in first, hand cupping around the back of his head to angle him into a kiss. Another mouth clamps itself around a nipple and sucks, causing him to arch and moan into Matsukawa’s mouth. The mouth around his nipple backs up, breathing a cold whiff of air onto the pebbled nub.

“They’re really sensitive,” Iwaizumi says, slightly breathier than he’s used to hearing. A finger flicks across the other nipple and his body jerks in response, ripping him from Matsukawa’s kiss. Matsukawa, undeterred, nuzzles at the underside of his jaw and looks down at Iwaizumi.

“Think he could come with just that?” he challenges and Hanamaki fails to bite back a small whine, hips shaking in response. He angles them up when he feels Oikawa’s breath—close but not nearly close enough—but grinds uselessly against empty air.

“Now, now, Makki,” Oikawa chides, bringing his hips back down with his hands, tongue lapping at the juncture where his thigh met his groin, causing him to twitch with every swipe. “We have all night. Wanna bet on how any times we can make you come?”

“I’m betting six,” Matsukawa says, and Hanamaki’s mouth goes dry.

“Not even in the double-digits? Have a little faith, Mattsun.”

“I have yet to come _once_ ,” Hanamaki rasps, bringing the attention back on him, “so unless you guys are all talk, then I suggest we fucking _get on with it_.”

Oikawa hums, as if it’s a request he’s considering. One hand runs up and down the length of his inner thigh, touching but not quite, fingertips ghosting against the skin until all the muscles in his body tighten in response.

“ _Please_ ,” Hanamaki tries, voice an octave higher, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Matsukawa’s hand tighten around the base of his dick.

“Patience, Makki,” and he groans audibly, “this is called foreplay.” Oikawa continues like they’re in fucking anatomy class and he’s pointing out a fucking body part or some shit and Hanamaki swears if these assholes keep this up he will find some way to collectively beat their asses without having to use his hands.

“I don’t fucking need foreplay, I need someone’s di—ah!”

Oikawa runs the flat of his tongue along the underside of his dick without waiting for him to finish. As if taking a cue, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa swoop down on him, mouths closing around his nipples and fingers tracing the valley of his ribs, sending him spiraling back into incoherence.

Oikawa’s cheeks hollow and it translates wonderfully as a thrilling pressure around his dick. His heels dig into Oikawa’s back and he fights the restraints again, instinctively reaching for something, _anything_ to anchor him.

Just when he finally manages to keep track of all the sensations, Matsukawa’s hand disappears. He vaguely hears a clicking sound and— _oh shit._

He bucks, mouth wide open in a scream that escalates to a shriek when Matsukawa flicks the settings of the _vibrating_ butt plug up higher. Oikawa pushes his hips back down with both hands and Hanamaki’s head jerks from side to side, toes curling and heels digging into the mattress.

Fuck, the fucking bastards. Iwaizumi and Matsukawa spare him a glance then suck hard on his nipples at the same time. “ _Ah!_ ”

Oikawa’s right hand leaves his hip only to be replaced by another, and two of Oikawa’s fingers slide inside him and push the bulb right against his prostate.

He can’t help it. He screams. Flails. Practically whites out.

He snaps back into consciousness when Oikawa drags the toy out of him. He squeaks— _note to self, vehemently deny any and all embarrassing sounds later_ —when it pops out of him, still vibrating like crazy.

“One,” Oikawa says before kissing his spent cock, drawing another flinch out of him.

His muddled brain finally registers exactly what Oikawa meant, and he is only spared from getting kicked when Hanamaki realizes that he’d come all over Oikawa’s face. He and Iwaizumi each give him a chaste kiss and get up off the bed, leaving him and Matsukawa alone.

They had talked about the order prior to this. Hanamaki isn’t really sentimental about his virginity or whatever but Oikawa had insisted that the first time had to be _meaningful_ (the fact that his “first time” was like something out of a trashy porn flick must have completely flown past Oikawa’s romance-addled mind).

“Fine.” Hanamaki said, and turned to Matsukawa. “Wanna take my virginity?”

“Mmkay.” he answered, without even looking up from tying his shoes, and that had been that.

Matsukawa huffs against his neck like he knows what he’s thinking. He looks down at Matsukawa and grins as the other edges up to kiss him.

He’s had assumptions on what it would be like to kiss his teammates. Matsukawa, he had guessed, would be a lazy kisser, but the way he’s attacking his mouth right now is anything but lazy. Matsukawa is mercilessly exploiting the spots that makes his breath hitch, tongue probing every area of his mouth and teeth scraping across his lip. He fights back with a sharp bite and Matsukawa pulls away, licking a spot of blood from his lower lip.

“Someone likes it rough.” he teases, thigh nudging against his cock.

“Says the guy who doesn’t wear kneepads.” he hisses back, fighting not to rut shamelessly against Matsukawa. “But you’re more of an S, aren’t you?”

Matsukawa stares down at him, eyes still droopy but lips curled up in a smug smirk. “Might not be a good time for you to find out. It _is_ your first time, after all.”

“You know I think all this virginity crap is bullshit, right?”

Matsukawa stares at him intently, the way he does when he’s marking him, when he’s on the other side of the court about to slam down a spike. It’s calculating and sharp and Hanamaki knows he’s doing that thing where he’s thinking way too much.

He brings a leg up to nudge his side, a wordlesss _I trust you_ and Matsukawa’s eyes clear up. He palms his thigh, squeezing lightly— _Okay_ —and the moment is shattered when he lifts that hand and brings it down hard against his flank.

The smack is deafening, the pain enough to make him yelp. He’s been on the receiving end of the guy’s spikes, knows that wasn’t even half of his strength—probably wasn’t even close to a quarter. Matsukawa stares at him expectantly when he opens his mouth, but his eyes widen a fraction when his lips form around two syllables.

“Harder.”

Matsukawa’s jaw clenches, Adam’s apple bobbing, like he’s working up the nerve to continue talking.

“On your knees,” he finally gets out, and sits back, smoothly catching the lube that Iwaizumi throws from across the room.

It takes a while to figure out how to maneuver himself with the cuffs in place. He grips the chain and uses it as leverage to flip himself over. He plants his knees on the mattress and lets go of the chains when he’s stable again. Matsukawa’s hands run gently along his thighs, climbing up to cup around the curve of his ass. Hanamaki wiggles it just to rile him up and it works when his right hand lifts only to come back down in a sharp smack. Hanamaki jerks away with a broken gasp.

Matsukawa leaves him no room to adjust and his hand comes down three more times, each strike harder than the previous. He bites the inside of his cheek just to keep from crying out everytime he makes contact. His other hand starts a series of slaps too, much weaker than his dominant hand but still enough to deliver considerable pain.

Dimly, he feels Matsukawa’s erection grinding against the crease of his ass, head hot and dripping on the base of his spine. He digs his fingers into the stinging globes of his ass and squeezes them tight together, deepening the cleft and thrusting into it, his lubed-up cock gliding smoothly. Once or twice, the head rubs against the rim, teasing, Hanamaki wants it on him, wants it in him.

Matsukawa slides two fingers in, humming in satisfaction when they enter without resistance. For the first time that day, he’s grateful for the plug, because he doesn’t think he can wait any longer. He nudges back against the swollen head when the fingers slip out. “Get inside me,” he orders, in a voice that doesn’t at all sound like his own. “Get inside me _now_.”

Condoms were also discussed earlier, a fact Hanamaki is grateful for because he wasn’t sure how sound his judgement would be in the heat of the moment. Hanamaki’s confident that all of his teammates are clean (the medical check-up requirements for athletes were _very_ thorough) so he really didn’t mind either way. In the end, the deal was this: if you wanted to use a condom, good, if you didn’t, that’s okay too.

When Matsukawa begins to guide his _bare_ cock into his entrance, Hanamaki knows that he definitely wants this more, the trust shared between them heightened by Matsukawa being the one to break that last barrier, without a latex sheath.

For all his bravado and impatience and nights spent with fingers up his ass, _nothing_ could have prepared him for the real thing. The slide of Matsukawa’s cock is eased by the lube and the last hour he spent with the plug up his ass but still it’s wholly different and there’s no other word Hanamaki can think of to describe it but _weird_.

He didn’t realize he’d clenched up until Matsukawa starts mumbling, “It’ll be okay. You feel so good, I’ll make this good for you too but you gotta relax for me, okay?”

Hanamaki tries, forcing his body to loosen up even when instinct is telling him to do otherwise. Matsukawa is considerate, slipping inch by inch and interspersing his entry with kisses to his shoulders and gentle brushes of fingers against his straining arms. Hanamaki groans in relief when he stops, realizes he’s all the way in when he feels the soft nudge of Matsukawa’s hips against his ass. Matsukawa’s hands wander down and he gasps softly when one of them closes around his erection.

He’s probably expecting to wrap around a flagging length, but Hanamaki’s still hard, hasn’t gone down even the slightest bit, and Matsukawa takes that as his cue to continue. It starts as a push and pull inside of him, and for a while there’s nothing but an odd discomfort, but he waits patiently as Matsukawa adjusts, shifts their angle using his hold on his hips.

Then, Matsukawa rubs against a spot inside him and his thoughts are a mess of _oh god, don’t stop_.

“More.” he commands, pulling on the restraints, wanting nothing more than to grab Matsukawa and force him back in, force him to pound into that spot until he’s seeing stars.

He tries to get his mouth to form around more words, coherent instructions to help him along, but _more_ is apparently enough. Matsukawa grips his hip tighter and starts up a punishing rhythm, thrusting in and out with a smooth gyration of his hips, and he’s left to scrabble for purchase, twisting his fingers into the chains until his knuckles are white with the force of his grip. 

Matsukawa’s hand on his cock tightens around the base just to drag him back to sanity and he actually groans in disappointment. He turns his head just enough to see a hint of a smirk on that face and he clenches up, taking some satisfaction when he Matsukawa fails to bite back a grunt. Soon enough, the need to come overruns the desire to tease Hanamaki and he jacks him off in the same rhythm as his thrusts, the combined sensations confusing but enough to build him up again.

Hanamaki closes his eyes against the sensory overload but the absence of his sight only amplifies everything. He can feel it, how Matsukawa’s so close, how his rhythm is losing consistency but gaining speed, how he’s moaning softly and whispering Hanamaki’s name. His dick is hot and throbbing inside and the anticipation in Hanamaki’s gut boils over.

“Come inside me,” he grinds out, and Matsukawa complies with a soft moan. Slick heat floods his insides and he arches back sharply when Matsukawa’s hand hitches in its rhythm, tightens around his cock just enough to send him tumbling into his own release, twitching like he’s been struck by lightning.

He slumps forward, ass held up only by Matsukawa’s hands on his hips. He’s still buried to the hilt inside him, spurting out the last of his orgasm.

He grunts when Matsukawa finally pulls out and sprawls next to him in a graceless heap. Hanamaki hisses at the feel of Matsukawa’s cum leaking out and leaving another wet spot on the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Gimme five minutes,” Matsukawa mutters back, nuzzling his temple, and Hanamaki knocks his head against him playfully. Matsukawa smiles and leans in to give him a kiss, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He palms at the tender flesh of his ass and Hanamaki moans softly, torn between flinching away from the contact and leaning into it.

“You alright?” he whispers when they part, just erring on the side of genuine concern. Hanamaki glares at him for it. Matsukawa smiles apologetically, making it up to him with a sharp pinch on a reddened cheek.

He gets up off the bed with one last slap to his rear and almost immediately, another set of hands are on him—smaller and more calloused, but gentler as they mapped parts of his body he didn’t even know ached. Iwaizumi crawls over to straddle him but stops with his face inches above his ass, then he leans forward and Hanamaki inhales sharply when he realizes that Iwaizumi just _licked_ his ass.

Not that that’s weird or anything, all things considered, it could probably be one of the tamer highlights of the evening, but he’s completely taken aback when Iwaizumi starts lapping at his entrance, lifting off the bed slightly with a more audible gasp.

Iwaizumi stops at his reaction, much like Matsukawa did when he first spanked him—the memory makes him twitch subtly into the sheets—but he settles back against the pillows, a gesture of assent, and Iwaizumi’s tongue returns, more confident. The worst of the sting had warded off from his orgasm, but Iwaizumi’s tongue is like a salve, laving the skin of his ass with sweeps of his tongue and lips, creating suction then lifting of with a pop. He noses at the skin of his cheeks for a while before returning to his hole, and he shudders when Iwaizumi pushes two fingers into him, scissoring him open and licking into the space between, curling and flexing as his walls clenched around his tongue. Something warm is dripping out of his hole and Hanamaki whimpers at the thought of Iwaizumi’s spit and Matsukawa’s cum mixing inside him.

He spreads him open with a hand on one cheek, just enough to push even deeper into him. Hanakami realizes, belatedly, that he’s already rocking against Iwaizumi’s face, body undulating to grind his awakening erection into the sheets and encourage Iwaizumi’s tongue to _keep doing that_.

Iwaizumi’s inserting a third finger into him. He didn’t think it would be so impressive after experiencing an actual cock up his ass, but the fingers curl and tap repeatedly against his prostate, reawakening his arousal even faster. His body twitches with every touch and Iwaizumi doesn’t stop until he’s writhing, moaning and desperate underneath him.

Iwaizumi’s name falls from his lips when that tongue flicks around the rim of his entrance. Iwaizumi licks out of him and along the cleft of his ass, dropping a kiss to the base of his spine before kneeling.

“Can you lie on your side for me?” Iwaizumi says and Hanamaki resumes the struggle known as getting his limbs to move.

Unlike Matsukawa, Iwaizumi holds him by the waist to help. Iwaizumi settles himself behind him, hooks a hand under his knee and hoists his leg up. Wasting no time, he takes himself in his hand and slides in.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since he’s had a dick inside him but the feeling is still as strange and overwhelming as the first time. Iwaizumi is bigger, but not something he can’t handle. He enters slowly, carefully, even when Hanamaki’s demonstrated that he can take pain, _wants_ it even, but the position and Iwaizumi’s grip leaves him no room to maneuver, and he’s left with no choice but to take whatever Iwaizumi sees fit to give him. Finally, Iwaizumi’s all the way inside, but he doesn’t thrust, instead initiates a rocking motion, firmly nudging against his prostate.

“You can go harder,” he whispers, frustration seeping into his tone, wishing he could run his hands along those glorious muscles, hold Iwaizumi’s head as he peppers kisses on his neck and shoulders.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, slows down even more as if to make a point. “After that last one? I don’t think so.”

From a corner of the room, Matsukawa squawks indignantly at the jab. Hanamaki laughs but it tapers off into a low moan when Iwaizumi pulls out, stopping just until it’s only his head that’s inside of him, then pushes back in, excruciatingly slowly. His head jerks back, almost banging against Iwaizumi’s face if he hadn’t dodged. Hanamaki leans his head against his shoulder and Iwaizumi licks up the column of his throat, nuzzling at the spot behind his ear, pinching and rolling his nipples between his fingers.

Iwaizumi reaches over to fist around his cock, hitching his leg up higher and supporting his knee with his elbow. The shift opens him up wider and creates a strain that heightens the feel of Iwaizumi inside him, every slight move made more poignant. Iwaizumi continues to fuck into him, steady and gentle, the slow drag of his cock inciting a different kind of pleasure altogether. He feels the same buildup, the heat and tightness gathering in his abdomen, but it doesn’t come with the urgency of his earlier orgasm. Iwaizumi fucks him until he’s trembling, wriggling in his grasp and straining around barely-audible pleas of _please, I'm so close_. When he comes into Iwaizumi’s hand, he lets out a low moan, the ecstasy drawn out and lasting much longer, fading like a receding tide. Iwaizumi sets him back down and he hums in contentment when he kisses his nape.

He realizes too late that Iwaizumi had pulled out without having finished. He tries to gather enough coherence to tell him that he can take it, but Iwaizumi straddles his thighs and there’s the wet, lewd sound of someone jerking off above him.

“You’re too sensitive.” Iwaizumi grunts out and something flutters in Hanamaki’s chest, softer than the spike of arousal or excitement. “Fine like this.”

After a series of strained moans, Iwaizumi comes hot and copious across his spine and ass, and it feels almost as good as having it inside him. Iwaizumi’s panting, hunched low over on Hanamaki’s back, breath warm on the back of his neck.

Iwaizumi starts moving again after a while, meeting him in a gentle kiss, all lips and tongue. He shudders slightly at the all-too-intimate feel of it and nips his lower lip just to compensate. Iwaizumi draws back with a mock-offended scoff and ruffles his hair as he stands.

Without warning, he’s flipped on his back, the unexpected friction of the sheets against the throbbing flesh of his ass and thighs making him whimper. Oikawa’s hovering above him, not even the slightest apologetic, and Hanamaki feels a stirring in his stomach—arousal, anticipation, and something that kind of feels like fear.

“Such a slut, Makki,” Oikawa taunts, crawling over him with all the sleek grace and confidence of a predator, “what do you think about doing this for the whole team?”

Oikawa licks his lips as his eyes crawl over his body. “We’ll have you in the club room, all strewn up and naked like this, ready for the taking, hole stretched and wet for anyone who wants to have a go.”

The words rip a shuddering breath out of Hanamaki. He can go on forever about the stupid things that come out of Oikawa’s mouth, but he has to admit his dirty talk game is top-fucking-tier.

Oikawa lines them up nicely and brings the weight of his body forward, caging him in and grinding his erection against him, the pressure encouraging blood to rush down south. That mouth closes around his neck and _bites_. Hanamaki groans and pushes his head back into the pillow, simultaneously trying to chase and run from the sensation. Oikawa’s marking him like he owns him, sawing into the soft flesh of his neck with his teeth. He parts from the area with a harsh scrape of his teeth and travels down to suck on a collarbone.

“You’ve come thrice in the last hour, Makki,” he hisses, and punctuates the statement with another sharp bite, “and you’re going to come again, but not until you work for it.”

The heat of his body lifts, along with the pressure on his dick. He tries to chase it but the cuffs hold tight. Oikawa’s thumb sweeps across the sharp jut of his hipbones, appreciatively tracing the lines that point to his erection.

“Hard already?” he croons, clicking his tongue and bringing his hands to cup at Hanamaki’s asscheeks. A smirk is all he gets before Oikawa digs his nails into the sensitive skin. Hanamaki practically howls.

He rakes his nails across his thighs and stops when he reaches the back of his knees, pushing his legs up until he’s practically folding him in half. Oikawa plans to have him this way, face-to-face. He squirms at the idea, but has no chance to think on it too much because Oikawa’s already _inside him_.

Matsukawa was rough, but Oikawa is _brutal_. He doesn’t wait for him to adjust around his girth and just pulls out the entirety of his length before ramming back in with a ferocity that makes Hanamaki scream. He spreads him open even more by pushing down until his knees are touching the bed, then bears down on him again, each thrust culminating with an impressive smack.

Then, without warning, he lets go of Hanamaki’s legs and just _stops_. He whines and brings his legs up and around Oikawa’s waist and nudges him with his heels, but the bastard is just smirking at him.

“What did I say, Makki?” he tuts, sing-song, like he’s talking to a misbehaving child.

There is a snap and the chain falls slack. Hanamaki gasps when he’s grabbed by the arm and pulled into sitting on Oikawa’s lap, on Oikawa’s cock, forcing it deeper inside him. Oikawa slips his head in the space between his bound wrists and he holds him instinctively, arms and legs closing around him like a clamp, pressing their bodies tight together. Oikawa pats his head, cradles the base of his spine with another hand and gives him a minute to gather himself.

Oikawa is patient, waiting until he’s breathing a little normally and his heart rate’s gone down. He spares Hanamaki a sidelong glance but the other just nods, nuzzling into Oikawa’s hair.

As if a switch is flipped, Oikawa takes his hair in a tight grip and pulls his head back sharply.

“Hop to it.” Oikawa whispers, wicked and commanding against Hanamaki’s ear, and Hanamaki wastes no time in obeying.

The angle’s all different, not as deep but the pressure is more insistent, his erection already pushing right against his prostate. He digs his heels into the mattress and uses the arms around Oikawa’s shoulders to bounce himself on Oikawa’s dick, trying to start up a decent rhythm. Even with the upper body strength he’s worked for all these years, it’s still a hell of a challenge, with that thickness spreading him wide and stabbing right into that spot that sends sparks shooting into his extremities.

For the first time, he can actually see how this is affecting his partner just as badly. Oikawa’s eyes flutter shut, breath catching in his throat when Hanamaki purposefully tightens, the strong hands—even more calloused than Iwaizumi’s, palm smaller than Matsukawa’s but fingers longer—dancing on his shoulders and back, but nowhere near where Hanamaki really wants him to touch. His nails dig into his skin again and Hanamaki gets the message, steadily increasing his speed, banking on Oikawa to take his weight as he pulls himself up and drops back down.

He can wager a guess on how he looks right now: groaning and panting like a thoroughly debauched mess, grinding against the muscled planes of Oikawa’s stomach and riding him with a rhythm that sends sweat beading on his neck, pooling in the hollow of his collarbones. From their proximity, he can feel Oikawa’s accelerating heart rate, can feel his stomach muscles clench as he thrusts minutely up into him, can feel the heat between their bodies rise until it’s almost unbearable.

Oikawa finally, _finally_ has mercy on him and grabs his cock. It only takes a few pumps of Oikawa’s hand before he’s coming, spilling weakly into Oikawa’s fist, breath escaping in a trembling moan.

“Open up, Makki,” he hears and Hanamaki opens his eyes—he doesn’t recall closing them at all—to see Oikawa’s fingers, long and elegant and dripping with his come, hovering in front of his mouth.

Oikawa is out to kill him, Hanamaki’s sure of it. Awakening all these stupid fucking kinks he didn’t even know he had—

The fingers tap against the seam of his lips, prompting. With a petulant glare, he opens his mouth and takes in Oikawa’s fingers and the taste of his own release. Suddenly, the bed dips and there is an arm around his chest.

“Did you take notes, Mattsun?” Oikawa says, voice rough and strained, pushing his fingers farther into his mouth.

“Wasn’t aware that it was a lecture,” Matsukawa mutters. He greets Hanamaki with an open-mouthed kiss at the skin under his ear, suckling gently. Oikawa is still buried inside him, twitching with every swirl of Hanamaki’s tongue against a cum-slicked finger. Matsukawa pulls him back and they both groan.

Iwaizumi comes up from his other side and gently takes his leg, holding him open long enough for Oikawa to separate from him. Hanamaki lets out a disappointed whine at the sight of his arousal, and Oikawa shushes him with a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“This is about you tonight, Makki.” he purrs, laying another kiss against his temple. “I’ll get my turn soon enough.”

Oikawa meets Matsukawa’s eye from over the top of Hanamaki’s head, smirking, and he jerks his head in a sharp nod.

To his surprise, Matsukawa reaches for his wrists and undoes one of the cuffs. Before he could protest, Matsukawa brings both arms behind his back and locks his arms in place.

Again, he’s positioned on his knees, and he realizes what they’re up to when Oikawa wraps a hand around the chains and _pulls_. His arms are stretched behind him at an angle, just steep enough to be uncomfortable but not outright painful. He groans, escalating into a cry when Oikawa plunges into him, pulling him back to meet his thrust and keeping him in place with a white-knuckled grip.

Matsukawa approaches from in front of him, hands tracing along the flexed muscles of his back and arms. His dick is hard and Hanamaki can already see some precome beading at the slit. He swallows the excess saliva that spreads on his tongue and, without thinking, dips down and takes Matsukawa’s cock into his mouth.

There is a string of curses, of incoherent, panicked babbling, then someone’s pulling at his hair, pulling him back. “Hana, stop.”

Any other situation and Hanamaki would have given him hell for the nickname. Now, it shows just how much this is affecting him, and Hanamaki takes the prize for what it is. He lolls his tongue out again and dives for the cock standing to attention in front of him, but Matsukawa tightens his grip to the point of pain and Hanamaki glares up at him.

“Hanamaki,” Matsukawa with a desperate urgency that forces Hanamaki to actually listen, “if you do that, you won’t be able to say the safeword.”

_Oh, for the love of—_

Without warning, he surges upwards, using Oikawa’s grip on his chains to pull himself up until he’s cheek-to-cheek with Matsukawa, until his lips are brushing against his ear.

“Issei,” Hanamaki growls, trying to pour all the heat and desperation in his body into the next few words, “ _Let me suck your dick._ ”

Nobody says anything, and the silence highlights the shudder that runs through Matsukawa. Despite the burn of humiliation, Hanamaki’s proud because the silence means he’s rendered even _Oikawa_ speechless and flustered. Fuck yes.

“Wow,” Oikawa starts, and it sounds like his normal voice, if only a little rougher. Matsukawa’s still staring at him, slack-jawed, so he drops back down and tongues the slit and foreskin, basing his actions on what felt good when Oikawa sucked him off, redoubling his efforts at a certain tactic whenever Matsukawa vocalizes pleasure. He inches forward far enough to take his balls into his mouth and sucks, licking his way back up and swallowing the head. The hand comes back but this time it pats him on the head, fingers running through his cropped hair.

Iwaizumi slips under him and Hanamaki nearly collapses when he takes his cock into his mouth in one go. His head spins when Iwaizumi sucks hard. Oikawa’s beginning to slip and he abandons the chains to grab Hanamaki by the elbows to provide more leverage, pounding into him with renewed vigor, chasing his own completion. The new position arches his back in a wonderful curve and increases the force of each thrust as Oikawa pulls him back to meet him dead-on. The litany of muffled grunts and moans that his vocabulary’s been reduced to is a great backdrop to the rhythmic smack of Oikawa’s hips against his ass.

He can’t think, can’t even breathe properly. Hanamaki doesn’t really know what to focus on anymore. Too much, too good, and he thinks he can actually be driven insane by the sheer intensity of it all. Matsukawa’s grip in his hair tightens and he thrusts forward, pushing his whole cock down Hanamaki’s throat. He whimpers and tries to remember how to breathe through his nose, overwhelmed by the heady scent and taste of Matsukawa, nose buried in the dark curls at the base, throat clenching sporadically around the intrusion.

Matsukawa has no hope of lasting after that. Quickly, he pulls Hanamaki off his dick and Hanamaki closes his eyes at the torrent of cum streaking his face. Matsukawa whispers from above him and Hanamaki isn’t even coherent enough to try and figure out what exactly he said but his eyes snap open when two fingers suddenly start to run along the puckered circle of skin joining him and Oikawa.

Oikawa pulls back the same time Iwaizumi sucks him in and Matsukawa pushes a finger right inside, where he’s already stuffed full with Oikawa’s cock. Tears spring up in his eyes but the the pain of the stretch is chased off by Oikawa’s dick grinding down on his sweet spot more forcefully.

A stuttered cry rips from him and he comes hard down Iwaizumi’s throat.

Oikawa groans when he clenches tight around him and thrusts three more times before spilling deep inside Hanamaki.

Oikawa retains enough awareness to continue holding him up—thank god, because all of Hanamaki’s muscles feel about as stable as melted wax—and gives Iwaizumi enough time to get out from under him before allowing him to collapse on the bed, groaning when Oikawa and Matsukawa slip out of him.

Someone’s hand glides along his leg and he lets out a high whine because _no, no, it hurts, no more, please_ , but lips meet his before he could say the safeword.

“It’s okay,” Matsukawa shushes, and Hanamaki nearly sobs in relief. “I gotcha.”

Matsukawa sweeps his tongue inside of his mouth, sucks on his bottom lip, one hand gently squeezing at the strained muscles of his thigh while the other cups the back of his head and smooths down the messed-up hair.

Long fingers close around both of his hands and Hanamaki hears the clinking of his chains before his wrists are released from the restraints. Slowly, his aching arms are brought down; lips and hands massaging the red, sunken skin. There are fingers on his chin and Matsukawa pulls away, Oikawa entering his field of vision.

“You were amazing, Makki,” Oikawa croons, gently wiping his face with a damp cloth while Matsukawa takes over restoring circulation in his fingers. Iwaizumi gently parts his legs a little more and runs a warm cloth down there. He twitches and groans when Iwaizumi pushes a finger inside.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “just being thorough. It’ll be harder to clean when it dries out.”

“Iwa-chan, so thoughtful,” Oikawa teases, and Iwaizumi spares him a glare before tossing the cloth at his face. Oikawa dodges with a shriek.

“Quit it,” Matsukawa hisses, still hunched over Hanamaki. Oikawa and Iwaizumi send him sheepish and apologetic looks and go back to cleaning him up. He’s just about ready to fall asleep like this, hands and damp cloths soothing away the soreness, but the drowsiness reels back when strong arms hook under his shoulder and knees and pull him up against someone’s chest.

Matsukawa misinterprets his flinch and quickly apologizes, readjusting his arms to hold him more comfortably. “We’re sleeping in Oikawa’s bed. I’m not too down with sleeping on cum-stained sheets.”

“ _Stained_ is an understatement, Mattsun,” Oikawa snickers, and Iwaizumi gives a warning growl. Oikawa obediently keeps his mouth shut as they pad across the hall to Oikawa’s bedroom.

Matsukawa gingerly lowers him on the bed and positions him on his side, lying behind him and pulling him to his chest, mindful of his lower half. Iwaizumi takes the spot on his other side and Oikawa moves behind him. Hanamaki brings a hand up to Iwaizumi’s neck and he takes the hint, tucking his head under Hanamaki’s chin and placing an arm on his waist, just above Matsukawa’s. Oikawa follows, setting his chin against Iwaizumi’s head—giggling softly when the spikes tickle his neck—draping his arm over Iwaizumi and resting his hand on Hanamaki’s forearm.

Hanamaki struggles against his own somnolence for just a little while longer, wanting to savor this feeling, this moment, but one of Oikawa’s eyes slide open, reflecting the city lights from the window and glimmering in the darkness of the room.

“Sleep, Makki,” he whispers, “we’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa both grunt in agreement and cuddle up just a little bit tighter against him. Matsukawa pecks him on the nape for good measure.

His lips curl into an unbidden smile, and he lets his eyes slip shut, the steady breathing of his friends lulling him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I have so many (kinky) headcanons for Seijou four that I don't even know which to write about next
> 
> ALSO: PSA, please use condoms. Especially when you're one to do it with multiple partners. I explicitly made note in this fic that they're all clean. UNLESS YOU ARE ALSO ABSOLUTELY SURE THAT YOUR PARTNER IS CLEAN, GUYS PLEASE, PROTECTION. PLEASE.


End file.
